Blow like sweet roses in the summer air. derstood. Prin. Avaunt, perplexity! What shall we do, If they return in their own shapes to woo? Ros. Good madam, if by me you'll be advis'd, Let's mock them still, as well known, as disguis'd : · Let us complain to them what fools were here, Disguis'd like Muscovites, in shapeless' gear; And wonder what they were; and to what end Their shallow shows, and prologue vilely penn'd, And their rough carriage so ridiculous, Should be presented at our tent to us. Boyet. Ladies, withdraw; the gallants are at hand. Prin. Whip to our tents, as roes run over land. [Exeunt Princess, Ros. Kath. and Maria. Enter the King, Biron, Longaville, and Dumain, in their proper habits. King. Fair sir, God save you! Where is the princess ? Boyet. Gone to her tent : Please it your majesty, Command me any service to her thither?? King. That she vouchsafe me audience for one word. Boyet. I will; and so will she, I know, my lord. (Exit. Biron. This fellow pecks up wit, as pigeons peas; And utters it again when God doth please : He is wit's pedler; and retails his wares At wakes, and wassels,2 meetings, markets, fairs; And we that sell by gross, the Lord doth know, Have not the grace to grace it with such show. (1) Uncouth. (2) Rustic merry-meetings. This gallant pins the wenches on his sleeve; heart, That put Armado's page out of his part! Enter the Princess, usher'd by Boyet; Rosaline, Maria, Katharine, and attendants. Biron. See where it comes !-Behaviour, what wert thou, Till this man show'd thee? and what art thou now? King. All hail, sweet madam, and fair time of day! VOW : Prin. Fair, in all hail, is foul, as I conceive. King. Construe my speeches better, if you may. Prin. Then wish me better, I will give you leave. King. We came to visit you; and purpose now To lead you to our court: vouchsafe it then. Prin. This field shall hold me; and so hold your Nor God, nor I, delight in perjur'd men. King. Rebuke me not for that which you pro The virtue of your eye must break my oath. (1) The tenor in music. voke; Prin. You nick-name virtue : vice you should have spoke; For virtue's office never breaks men's troth. Now, by my maiden honour, yet as pure As the unsullied lily, I protest, I would not yield to be your house's guest Unseen, unvisited, much to our shame. We have had pastimes here, and pleasant game; A mess of Russians left us but of late. King. How, madam? Russians ? Ay, in truth, my lord ; Trim gallants, full of courtship, and of state. Ros. Madam, speak true :- It is not so, my lord ; My lady (to the manner of the days,') In courtesy, gives undeserving praise. We four, indeed, confronted here with four In Russian habit: here they stay'd an hour, And talk'd apace; and in that hour, my lord, They did not bless us with one happy word. I dare not call them fools; but this I think, When they are thirsty, fools would fain have drink. Biron. This jest' is dry to me-Fair, gentle sweet, Your wit makes wise things foolish ; when we greet With eyes best seeing heaven's fiery eye, By light we lose light: Your capacity Is of that nature, that to your huge store Wise things seem foolish, and rich things but poor. Ros. This proves you wise and rich, for in my eye, Biron. I am a fool, and full of poverty. Ros. But that you take what doth to you belong; It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue. (1) After the fashion of the times. ness sad? Biron. O, I am yours, and all that I possess. I cannot give you less. Ros. Which of the visors was it, that you wore? Biron. Where? when? what visor? why de mand you this ? Ros. There, then, that visor; that superfluous case, That hid the worse, and show'd the better face. King. We are descried : they'll mock us now downright. Dum. Let us confess, and turn it to a jest. Prin. Amaz’d, my lord? Why looks your highRos. Help, hold his brows! he'll swoon! Why look you pale ? Sea-sick, I think, coming from Muscovy. Biron. Thus pour the stars down plagues for perjury. Can any face of brass hold longer out?Here stand Í, lady; dart thy skill at me; Bruise me with scorn, confound me with a flout; Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my ignorance ; Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit; And I will wish thee never more to dance, Nor never more in Russian habit wait. 0! never will I trust to speeches penn'd, Nor to the motion of a school-boy's tongue; Nor never come in visor to my friend; Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper's song: Taffata phrases, silken terms precise, Three-pil'd hyperboles, spruce affectation, Figures pedantical ; these summer-flies Have blown me full of maggot ostentation : God knows!) (1) Mistress. And, to begin, wench,-So God help me, la Ros. Sans sans, I pray you. Yet I have a trick to us. do us. Ros. It is not so; For how can this be true, end. transgression Some fair excuse. Prin. The fairest is confession. King. Madam, I was. And were you well advis'd? When you then were here, King. That more than all the world I did res reject her. Peace, peace, forbear; (1) Make no difficulty. pect her. |